


Stalwart

by Tsula



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Nobles are douches, Romance, The Hound to the rescue, semi-fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsula/pseuds/Tsula
Summary: As though drawn by their ill intent, Sandor Clegane would be waiting with that contemptuous look that could send a grown man running.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Early morning posts ftw~~ ;D at least getting one of my posts for the day out of the way early. 
> 
> My once overflowing revision folder is starting to dwindle though. Gonna need to start refilling soon since this daily double posting is going to get really rough (or rougher technically) between doing freelance writing gigs and trying to move. ._. 
> 
> Anyway, here is some short, semi-fluffy nonsense with one of my all time favorite characters!

King’s Landing was a far cry from home. 

The scenery was familiar enough, but the mannerisms were not. Home was a lovely place full of lovely people: a garden by the sea. The great City of Kings was lovely, yes; but toxic. A great glistening gem from a distance that was jagged and ugly up close. Every smiling person was a liar and a snake. They spoke to you kindly at first, with their pretty little grins, hoping to lure you closer for the kill. 

They could hardly wait till your back was turned to strike. 

_What an odd sort of creature._

_‘She’s’ royalty? You wouldn’t know it by her manners. She seems better suited on her back than at court._

You had to grit your teeth to the point your jaw ached just to keep from saying something. Lashing out wouldn’t help anything, you knew this well enough, but by the gods they made you so angry you could have _screamed_. 

They didn’t care if you heard them or not. In fact, they seemed to want nothing more. 

Then all at once they were silent. Fearful. 

The first time you’d seen him there you’d been a little afraid too. He was large, wild, and appeared very unapproachable. Though you were far from afraid of him these days. His presence had become much too common. So much so that the rude, cruel gossip-mongering nobles hardly had a chance to open their mouths anymore. 

As though drawn by their ill intent, Sandor Clegane would be waiting with that contemptuous look that could send a grown man running. He’d wait for you to take his side and then the two of you would continue on together as if that had been the plan all along. If it was, you’d been left out of the loop though. 

Perhaps it was some attempt by Lord Lannister to further safeguard you from harm. It felt more likely than it having been The Hound’s idea. He hardly seemed all that happy about it, though he never said as much. Not that he said much at all. 

He was more of a silent guardian. A shield against their cruelty. A stalwart defender against the mockery, lies, and threats. They could hardly even look your way. Most of them shied away from his impassive scowl and the others simply pretended that neither of you existed. A much kinder place to be than the focal point of their leers. 

For they never could just leave well enough alone. These King’s Landing highborn always needed to look down on someone. Be it the poor, the meek, the soldiers, or a ‘country-girl noble’: they only seemed sure of themselves when they stood above everyone else. As though their cruelty were the only thing to give them any peace of mind. 

Yet they did not dare tangle with Sandor Clegane. The Hound seemed very much like a man who wouldn’t think twice about killing a noble if he had a mind to. No doubt he’d even get away with it. King Joffrey certainly enjoyed brutality and murder more than enough to let it slide. After all, what’s a few dead nobles _really_ worth anyway? Unless their lives directly benefited the crown, they were little more than sheep to the king. Perhaps they knew this, or perhaps they simply didn’t want to risk the wrath of a man with so much blood on his hands. 

Sandor turned from them once he was sure they had been sufficiently deterred. You couldn’t rightly say how many times his presence had saved you, but you were sure that list would only lengthen over time. Frightened or not, the local nobles really didn’t learn lessons all that well. They probably wouldn’t stop until the Hound took one of their heads. Which he certainly seemed more and more inclined to do. 

He was likely tired of having to save you from them. Though you weren’t exactly sure why he bothered at all. Had Tywin Lannister really sent the Hound to guard you from them? You knew that the Lannisters always paid their debts, but this seemed excessive. 

The Hound’s job should have been finished the moment he delivered you to the keep. Yet whenever you found yourself in need of saving… There he was. Loyal and protective enough to more than earn his namesake, though you were by no means his ‘master’. By all rights he was the King’s sword and shield, not yours. Yet this did not seem to give him pause. 

Perhaps he merely held some sort of weakness or sentiment for women being accosted. 

You almost wished that he wouldn’t, simply because it would spare your heart that hopeful flutter his presence caused. The one that made the disappointment all the more profound each time he left. Though you could never bring yourself to send him away or ask him to stop. Even with the pain it caused you still needed to see him, needed him close even just for a moment. 

Pathetic really but you couldn’t seem to help yourself. 

As usual Sandor did not say a word when he turned to you. He took your arm firmly and with a certain casualness that was new and exciting. He rarely allowed himself to touch you, yet there he was acting by all rights as if he did such a thing daily. 

You skin tingled and practically burned beneath his touch. A painfully hopeful sort of excitement flooding your veins at his nearness, at being touched by a man so dangerous and yet so contradictingly sweet. 

Though, you knew well enough to steel yourself for the impending fall. The way that happy weightlessness would drop like a heavy stone in your gut. Because you already knew what to expect at the end of this journey together. He would do exactly what he always did once he’d seen you safely to your room. He’d step away so that you could no longer feel the heat of him against your side. His gaze would linger with the same sternness beheld by his tone as he warned you once more to stay out of trouble.

Then he would be gone from you. 

You knew, expected, and understood this. Yet for a moment you could see another option and you _wanted it_. Wanted him to step closer rather than away. To look at you with kindness and maybe even some semblance of the affection you felt for _him_. 

He may never love you, but it would set your heart at ease to know that he actually _cared_ about you. That this chivalry was more than honor, duty, or simple kindness. Though you doubted he would ever just up and say as much and you were too uncertain to outright address it. Would that you had the courage to just face the possibility of his rejection, but you were blinded by hope and so afraid of letting it shatter. 

You knew that this man could break your heart with just a few words just as surely as he could set everything right. 

He stopped outside your doorway as he always did, but his hand lingered on your arm longer than usual and he did not say a word. You glanced at him no doubt with that foolish hope blazing in your eyes as he stared at you with a pensive look upon his face. He was not leaving and looked as though he wished to speak, but did not know what to say. You could sympathize as you often felt the same when it came time to part ways. 

He seemed to be struggling and you wished that you could help him, but you had no idea what was going through his head. So you opted for physical comfort and placed your hand over his own. It may have startled him a little, his eyes lingered there for a long moment, but he did not move away or appear _bothered_ by your touch. Maybe it even soothed him a little as he soon spoke. 

“You should not wander about without an escort.” His tone was gruff and nearly angry, but it came out low and his words felt… dare you say, _caring_? Or as close as you imagined him capable of. 

“Why?” The question slipped out before you could stop it and you knew he would not let it go. His brow had already furrowed and his lips tugged into a frown. “Why do you care?”

That seemed to bring him up short and for a moment he looked lost and even a little afraid. 

"I don't care!" He snarled angrily and it might have torn your heart apart if you’d believed him even a little. "I don't care." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than you. 

"Then why do you keep helping me?" It was a simple question, but one that you’d been too wary to pose. He had never addressed the fact that he was always coming to your aid and you had simply taken his lead. 

"Why do you have to question everything? Most people'd just be grateful—" 

You surged upward onto the very tips of your toes to cut him off with a kiss—soft and light—that took you both by surprise. "I _am_ grateful." You kissed him a little harder, murmuring against his lips. " _Thank you._ " 

He took hold of you and for one, brief second you thought he'd push you away. Instead he pulled you closer and spoke softly against your lips. 

" _You're welcome._ "


End file.
